The Lady Who Used to Live Here

in the house down the driveway was, with one daughter, kind to a first-cousin, who devotedly continued to visit her (sometimes twice, always once a year) for a very long time after leaving College, always bringing her dog, welcome as she was too in the house. Several times, I joined my cousin and the lady who used to live here for tea (I brought the scones) and spent a delightful hour listening to her old stories and my cousin's, and on leaving once I banged into the wrought-iron gate lightly, not bending anything but sort of smearing black on my car, a sign of her long kindness to my cousin. The house, I think, is now empty, she having moved to a place for older folks in Nashville and her children having gone through and sorted and disposed of things, some in moving vans, others probably simply removed. The University owns the house where the lady used to live, which now sits empty, but the stone and wrought iron fence and mailbox on which her name still faintly appears remind me of her and her kindness to my first-cousin every time I walk by, including today near the end of my walk. 

I wish them all well.